And that was all it took.
For a second, Jo’s mouth dropped open, her hand still in the air, confusion on her brow. Her gaze darted from Adam’s lips to his eyes to his phone. And then in a flash, her defenses snapped into place, every line of her going hard.
Adam was an idiot.
“I’m sorry,” he said, silently counting the rings in his head. He needed to pick up, now, or he’d lose Shannon.
But turning his back on Jo felt like losing even more.
Jo held her hands up, palms facing out. “No. You should get that.” Her voice went pointed. “Might be someone important.”
She moved to shove past him, but he caught her. Clasped her wrist. “You’re important.”
“Sure.” A bitter laugh spilled past her lips. “Tell your girlfriend I said hi.”
“She’s not—”
Shannon wasn’t his girlfriend. She hadn’t been for a while now, but he’d been clinging to the idea of her as if she were. And nothing about it was fair. Not to anybody.
Disappointment darkened Jo’s eyes. She pulled her hand free with force, and Adam let her go. She brushed past him and headed toward the kitchen.
In his palm, his phone buzzed, and he cursed, following Jo with his gaze even as he slid his thumb across the screen to take the call. He brought it up to his ear and froze, swallowing hard, taking in the stares of every single other summer student here. All focused on him.
He was a bastard.
Fuck. He’d have to deal with them later. For now, he ducked his head and made for the door. Tried to keep the hope out of his tone as he answered, “Hello?”
“Hey, Adam?”
And it didn’t matter that Shannon wasn’t his girlfriend anymore. Hearing her voice for the first time in almost a month had a piece of his chest breaking free—a weight he hadn’t even recognized suddenly gone. With a smile on his face and a lightness behind his ribs, he pushed through the door and out into the open space beyond.
“Hi. Shannon. Yeah, it’s me.”
Jo didn’t watch Adam as he paced around the little area between the two houses. As he trailed his fingers along the rail of the wooden fence at the back of the lot.
She definitely didn’t obsess about what the hell he’d been talking about with that girl that had left him looking so damn relieved.
Fidgeting, she scooped up a forkful of the rice and beans Anna’d cooked tonight. It was good, savory and flavorful and not full of bacon, and she gave Anna an approving nod of thanks. Nobody had had to accommodate Jo’s diet, but they’d each made a point of it whenever they decided to step up and make dinner. She just wished she could fully appreciate it.
Then she caught herself staring out the window again, and she forced her gaze away.
What the hell had she been expecting? Just because she’d dressed like a girl for once and let him touch her neck. Let him hold her hand and talked about her mother of all the ridiculous things. It didn’t mean he owed her anything.
Finally, the door to the house swung open, and Jo trained her gaze on her plate. Across the room from her, Jared hopped off the end of the chair he’d been sharing with Kim, dumping his dish on the coffee table and taking his beer with him as he went to intercept. Jo didn’t watch the way he steered Adam toward the kitchen. She didn’t keep track of how long they lingered there, just out of sight.
Around her, there was a conversation going on, but she couldn’t focus on it. Even if she could, she had nothing to contribute. So she sat there, mechanically eating and swallowing and taking less than measured pulls on her drink.
She was so damn restless, this nervous fluttering sort of energy beating around inside her chest, and it didn’t make sense.
When Adam and Jared hauled themselves out of the kitchen, Adam had a nice full plate and a drink of his own. Jo held her breath as he made his way into the room they were all gathered in, but instead of coming over to sit by her, Adam let Jared shove him into the seat he’d vacated next to Kim. And what the hell was that supposed to mean? Plunking himself down on the floor, Jared tucked back into his dinner, and Adam finally got to start his. Jo’s fork scraped porcelain, and she stopped, crinkling her brow when she found her plate empty.
She chewed the inside of her lip as the agitation inside her simmered and brewed. She should’ve eaten slower, should’ve paced herself. Short of fiddling with the clinking ice cubes at the bottom of her glass, what did she have left to do with her hands?
What reason did she have left to be here?
These people didn’t know her; they didn’t care about her—she’d made sure of that with the way she’d acted. The only person who’d taken the time to push past her defenses, the one guy who’d looked at her as more than a fuck or a bitch or an obstacle in so long…
He was leaving for a week. Going to see a girl he clearly wasn’t over.
And all of a sudden, Jo couldn’t breathe.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, pushing off the sofa and letting her plate clatter as she set it down. Half a dozen pairs of eyes turned to her, and the vise around her lungs squeezed tighter. “I need some air.”
She didn’t look at Adam for real this time as she made her escape. She shoved through the front door of the house and out, not stopping until she hit the fence. Bracing her hands against the wood, she bent at the waist, pulling in air in great heaving gasps and closing her eyes.
Stupid. Dressing like this and pretending to be part of their little club, hanging out and eating dinner like she was one of them. She should be like that weird guy, Tom—should just stay in her room and at the lab. Then she wouldn’t have to feel these kinds of things. Wouldn’t have to want what she couldn’t have, and what she usually went to such lengths to avoid.
She’d just started to get herself put together again when the door to the house swung open. It banged against the frame, and she tightened her grip on the railing. Chances were, it was just Carol or someone coming by to check on her. Jo would tell her she was fine, and Carol would leave, and it would all be okay.
The sounds of footsteps came closer and closer until they were right there. But instead of a quiet voice calling out, a body leaned itself against the railing beside her, settling in as if to stay. She sucked her lip ring between her teeth and opened her eyes. The body wore navy Nikes and tan cargo shorts. And it had really, really muscular calves.
Adam, then. Of course.
Dread and anticipation twisted themselves in her gut, rising and falling and sinking and soaring. But for the longest time, Adam didn’t say a word. Jo bit down harder on her lip as she forced herself to look at him—really look at him. Not at his shoes, but at his face. The sharp jut of his jaw as he stared ahead into the trees in front of them. The golden cast of his skin in the fading light.
After a moment, she couldn’t look anymore.
With a sigh, she let her lip ring go. “You here to ask me if I’m okay?”
“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”
“Nope.”
“Well. There’s your answer, then.”
He said it all so matter-of-factly, like he hadn’t been expecting any other response, and a hidden warmth rose behind her ribs at the thought that he knew her so well. But it wasn’t enough to burn away the vulnerability, the achy-sticky feeling that had sent her running from the house. It didn’t make her any less convinced she was fucking this whole thing up.
“You should go back inside,” she said. “Finish your dinner.”
“I had enough.”
“Right.” She huffed. “I’ve seen you eat.”
“I had enough for now.”